


Lumikha

by Mahiwaga (crAIne)



Series: KuroKura AUs [5]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Exploration, Falling In Love, Fluff, Kurapika meeting his would be soulmate, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crAIne/pseuds/Mahiwaga
Summary: Where Kurapika explores the woods and stumbles into an abandoned house he has never found before despite knowing every part of the woods. Somehow, falls in love with someone he hasn't met.
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer & Kurapika
Series: KuroKura AUs [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980625
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Lumikha

**Author's Note:**

> If you know who I am, shushh, ya don't. For once I was able to write no? This is pretty much a self-indulgent fic of Kurapika casually falling in love for someone he hasn't met because of a few things he's noticed for himself.

  
He knew these woods. Kurapika knew these woods like he did the back of his hand and yet here he is. In front of an abandoned house he hasn’t seen nor explored before. Forgotten by all but nature. The need to explore its every nook and cranny bloomed in his soul as in truth he is a curious child. 

The house itself was in a good condition structure-wise. The walls in the living room weren’t falling apart but the wallpaper peeled away with time. The tips of his fingers swiped along the surface of the couch, just how long had the house been left unattended? He saw a fair amount of antique appliances. All looking nearly reusable with a few tinkering. Kurapika contemplated taking a few back home, no doubt Pairo would enjoy dismantling a few of them. Not to mention, selling them would add a few jennies weight to his pockets. The owner must have been rich, despite the petite size of the house. There were a lot of items left all over the place. So the man was either rich or a serial hoarder.

As he explored, he noticed a few photographs. The frame that housed some had broken glass and edges. Probably fell over, he surmises. One thing he noticed was the fact almost all of the photographs never had the same people. It rarely did. Some of the common ones that popped up a lot was a tall woman with an equally tall nose, she looked like a model with her poised and the way her light short hair fell above her shoulders. The woman posed with a girl whose hair was put into a ponytail. Her expression, pensive as she seemingly kept sowing some sort of fabric as she was photographed.

Another of a large man with hanging earlobes, the scars on his face would have been intimidating had it not been for the fact he posed with flowers in his hair—along with his mummy and tiny long haired companion. _These photographs are candid and silly_ , Kurapika thought. He kept on examining each photograph one by one. A strange Samurai drinking with what he could only describe as a bear of a man. A short boy with a scarf covering his face being held above the head of an eyebrow-less man with a strange smirking man in the background. A photo with a light haired man and a girl with glasses among a stack of papers looking positively exhausted yet relieved. 

The last photograph housed all of them in one sitting. Almost like a family picture. This time it looked formal, or they attempted to at least. Their mid laughs immortalized with the power of photography. One of these must have been the owner of the house. His hands edged to put down the picture unto the table until he noticed something. He counted each head and realized, instead of 12 there were 13. There was another person in the photograph that hadn’t appeared in all the others.

A man with dark hair and equally dark eyes. He wasn’t laughing like all of his companions, but he looked at peace as he watched them do so. For some reason, Kurapika thought that this—this was the man who lived in this house.

Kurapika set the photo aside, once again exploring the house. The kitchen had 13 chairs despite it’s small size, it was all squeezed together to gather around this long rectangular table, made out of two tables covered by a blanket of patchwork. 

Bathroom, a big mess with all the towels haphazardly blessed everywhere. A portion of the bathroom was organized with what he could only guess as the girl’s corner, given the feminine toiletries but there were a few of the men's in there too, while the other was complete chaos. The last place to really visit was the bedroom, which unlike the living room was the biggest part of the house.

Black sheets and black pillows, it was a complete contrast to the warmer earthy colors of the room. It only cemented the theory that maybe the man with the dark hair in the picture was the owner. The filled bookshelf and the scattered books suggested that the owner was a reader, much like himself. Kurapika checked a few of them. There was no specific Genre to pin them on but most of them involved adventures. Perhaps, again like him, This man also had an appetite to explore the world and its boundaries.

Kurapika thought of the bedroom as the last room, but he thought wrong. There was another room on the side. The path to it was a small door. It did not have a door knob, rather it was just a slab of wood with hinges. Carefully, the boy unhinged the door open. With that out of the way, he couldn’t help but take a pause to take in the sight. 

Wall to wall covered in pages of illustrations of varying subjects. Some of nature and some of the people in the photographs. Ink stains and paint splatter mar some of the places in the room and yet they make it more homey. The smell of inks, the vintage musty smell of the room still permeated despite the open window that showed the view from the outside. It was messy with tools placed and displaced everywhere. Some covered and unfinished clay statues, sadly, looked like it was about to crumble with time. Canvases, again both complete and incomplete decorate the walls with nature as its subject. The covered ones lay away from the touch of direct sunlight. This place, compared to any room of the house, was the heart. The owner was _an artist_.

An odd detail he noticed had something to do with the man’s materials. All, spare for a few, had a different name ingrained in them. He couldn’t understand the names of course—they could be brand names. The ones with letters carved into the brushes however had varying lengths. Perhaps the man had borrowed materials and simply forgot to return them. He could have bought them second hand—but the idea of the man nicking the materials off of unsuspecting hands was not exempt from him.

Still, the man was without a doubt brimming with Talent. Kurapika could see it, with each drawing, with each portrait came a new element of improvement that made the pieces shine. The mini sculptures of spiders in his desk looked so real that it made his skin crawl, but he couldn’t help but appreciate it nonetheless. The skills for calligraphy were nothing to disregard either. Kurapika could not decipher the language but it looked similar to common language. The letters were written with delicate lines and bold strokes, it was then he realized something. The papers—the drawings and the portraits were signed with a signature! Kurapika quickly looked back to look for an illustration with the most legible writing. His hand flitted through stacks and stacks of untouched art work until he found it.

“ _Quwrof_ …” Quwrof—The man’s name was Quwrof. _What a strange yet unique name_ he thought. That was supposed to be it, he had a name to the face of the man who lived in this house. His curiosity was finally sated. Peering into what lies in the paper however, changed that. The portrait in the paper was unlike any other drawings. The model was not one of those in the photographs. Instead they were a pair of red eyes, belonging to a boy who bore _great resemblance_ to him, staring right back at him. 

_Was he seeing this correctly?_ He looked at the other stack of papers he scattered in his search and it proved true. Quwrof—That man drew a boy akin to himself. He even confirmed it by standing in front of the broken mirror near the drawing table. The resemblance was uncanny. 

Kurapika could not explain how he felt when he noticed how each line was placed with such care that he could not see any sign of erasure. Each line, each stroke was deliberately placed. Compared to the other portraits Quwrof drew, there was no hurried sketchy quality to them. The boy looked around and set his sights on all the covered art pieces, quickly unveiling them. There he stood, in front of incomplete works of artistry that all seemingly are of him. No exact words would be able to explain the thoughts that ran through his head. As he looked at each painting, at each sculpture that all stared right back at him.

Perhaps he should have been creeped out, or found it odd that some estranged man that lived long before had been drawing someone similar to him in the woods, but no. There was a certain feeling of awe in his chest that felt misplaced, given the circumstance.

_He took his time carving...his appearance. He took his time with…his features. He took the time to match the color of… his eyes._

Was it narcissistic? To be enchanted by how someone drew an image that mimicked his own? Maybe, but he couldn’t help but like the way that man Quwrof seemed to create his pieces with such care. It might not even be him but, It felt nearly intimate to know this fact—to be drawn as though you’re the Muse of someone as talented as Quwrof was. This room—any room like this was the heart of an artist. A piece of them will always be in their works. Quwrof dedicated a piece of himself to recreating an image of a person so alike himself. If they had existed at the same time, and they had met. He could have fallen for him.

Alas, that wasn’t the case for both of them.

So with a heavy sigh, Kurapika once again looks at the room as a whole. Taking in and ingraining each detail in his mind before leaving the room. He felt his hands itch to take home one of the portraits in that room, but no. He couldn’t, same with the books and appliances he had planned to take home. Something in his heart told him it would be better to leave them untouched, he supposes his heart let his morals do the talking. 

His steps became progressively slower as he neared the door. Would it be wrong to say he didn’t want to leave just yet? There must be more secrets to this house than he was able to explore. There must be, but he knows he must go. Kurapika could see the sun set from the cracks and the windows. They must have been preparing dinner by now, Pairo would have him by the neck if he skipped out.

With heavy reluctance he stepped out the door. He could explore for another day. So he walked with lead steps, a tired feeling settling in his shoulders. However, as he breathed in the cool air that surrounded him, feeling it cleanse his lungs, he slowly felt the feeling lift.

Before he left, he once again looked back unto the house. Kurapika found himself unable to speak. The house, as if untouched by nature and time, looked brand new. No cracks or natural decay in it’s wood or brick. What’s more was the eyes that stared at him from the window of the art room.

Quwrof...That man looked exactly the same as his photograph. His inky black hair and grey eyes paired well with the paleness of his skin. He was handsome, more than he had expected. Now, that very same handsome man was staring at him as though he was something to be enchanted by. Staring at him with such gentleness akin to the strokes he laid on the portraits he drew. Kurapika could feel himself flush under his gaze.

The moment however was fleeting for the next time he closed his eyes, the house was back to the way it was when he had found it. Lost to nature’s touch, with air blowing through an empty window. 

* * *

As Kurapika walked through familiar woods, his mind kept on running back to that house. He never really did find out why it was abandoned wasn't it? it just was. Laid there bare for nature to consume; it was lucky no raiders were able to find it first—and that moment. The thing he had seen. Was it real? Had the man he had seen in the window really been Quwrof? Had time somehow slipped up and let them meet eye to eye in a span of a few seconds? Kurapika swears he could still feel the intensity of his grey eyes. He can't help but wonder what would it feel to examine it much closer. To be looked at as though they regard you so warmly. For a moment, Kurapika felt like a special person to that man.

"Curarpikt!" He looked up to see Pairo running towards him looking equally angry and worried. "Where were you! We've been looking everywhere!" "Sorry Pairo—I was exploring." The apology flew over the other boy's head "You call this exploring? Pika you've been gone for hours." At his words, Kurapika felt guilty. "You should've seen it Pairo! there is this house in the woods that we haven't—" "I get it I get it but let's go home first. Eat! you must be starving. you're the only one left who hasn't ate yet." Pairo gave him a playful smile. "Then you can show me, tomorrow." The boy sighed and gave in to his friend. It's true he must have gone overboard with the time. The sky was already turning blue.

He'll meet him again someday

**Author's Note:**

> I might create a part two of this. Might is the word, I'm not confident I'll gain the urge to write again for some time. Inconsistency is part of the trade, and really. If you know who I am now shushhh. Let's pretend I don't exist.


End file.
